The child’s body lay still on the ground in front of me, the thin layers of skin that had kept them alive during the harsh winter were cracked and festering with new life as its body was continuously torn apart. The insects tore open the child’s stomach, their miniature razor-like teeth gnashing at whatever bone and marrow still was left; leaving the infant’s corpse to resemble the myriad of other corpses that lined the streets of New York City.

I didn’t have time to offer it a proper burial, or even to say a prayer.
Any momentary lapse to provide sentiment could be seen as weakness by the creatures that still stalked us. Instead I pulled on the bridle of my horse again and whistled for the others in the caravan to follow.

We were nearly at the bridge. From there it would be another three days to the camp. Already thirty under my care had died from crossing Central Park.

But death is not something that is new to me or to the others who survived the Awakening of the Mordred.
We have seen friends and family fall by the way side in this new age.
Mankind has been almost entirely stamped out.

I don’t even know exactly why we have survived. I look toward the few that are still under my care, wondering if perhaps the experiments which we were all subject to could be the reason for our existence now.

I was born in captivity. A slave to masters who saw the future, they called themselves heralds of a new coming age; I called them insane. But I think everyone did that before the Mordred attacked.

That seems a lifetime ago. Now even the ones with special abilities have lasted very long. These... life forms, if you can even call them that; have stripped away every last part of ourselves.

That doesn’t even begin to describe the horrors that we have done to each other. For the corpses that aren’t completely infected we must feed upon; and for those who are slowing us down we must eliminate ourselves.

There is but one last hurrah for our kind, and it exists in the darkest of places.

The Skinner Foundation.

The very people that turned us into monsters. That did everything in their power to save us.
Whispers of their return started mere weeks after the dust settled. Survivors were gathering in strongholds across the east coast, bowing down to idols of steel and metal to beg them to return.

The truth was something that I chose to keep hidden from my caravan. So as we approached the bridge that crossed to the mainland and they saw the brilliant glow of the sun, they actually had hope. How was I ever to make them understand what sacrifice I was about to make?

Monstrous creatures of the ocean stirred below us as we marched, the horses did their best to keep quiet; to not alert the creatures to our feeble attempt to escape their domain.

It was another child that actually set off their sensors, a small babe that one of the survivors had reasoned we should take along with us.

I had felt pity for the infant when we found, dehydrated and gasping for any sort of meal. But now it had become a liability. The sea monsters rose from their wombs, thrashing and shrieking madly as they blindly searched for the source of the sound.

The horses would be spooked in a few moments, so I had to act quickly.
There was no other option but to grab the child from the adoptive mother’s bosom and offer it as penance to these gods that controlled our world.

I tossed the infant over the edge of the bridge, watching as it fell into the open maw of the beast; its hunger sated for but a moment. Enough for us to survive and cross.

Those who followed me didn’t object. The idea of chivalry or nobility was lost long ago. This was about the survival of a species. No one person came above another. That was what I preached time and time again. It was enough to silence their concerns as we continued forward.

We developed a routine as we went further to the north, camping at last light and taking turns with sentinels to guard the perimeters of our meager camps. A few fell by the way side when the smaller creatures that lurked in the shadows grew hungry.

The truth was I knew that they were letting us live, letting us go forward to our goal. At any moment I knew they could destroy all of us. But I didn’t dare question why they allowed this. I just knew I had to be certain no one else recognized this.

Hours ran into days. We lost track of time, relying solely on our sense of preservation to keep awake. Until at last, we found it.

From the exterior it looked no different than any of the other warehouses that once lined this stretch of suburban jungle. Now it was overgrown with twisted vines and dark stains of blood. But the look didn’t matter really, not if we could accomplish what we came here to do.

Our small group journeyed inward, searching for light in the shadow as we turned on all of the remaining circuits. The message that had led us here was correct, a gateway could be formed.

I gave instructions to everyone to adjust the parameters of the energy output. A sense of anticipation filling the room as we watched the ancient equipment come to life.

A voice, illegible and dark; spouted instructions. I was the only one that understood the old tongue; so I complied with the orders. A vortex of shimmering light formed from the air as we stood there, it’s power nearly knocking down some of us.

At last, a figure stepped out from the ethereal realm. He walked like us and he looked like me. An exact replica from another realm.

“Dylan, I’m glad to see that you made it,” he said in a raspy voice.

“I followed your instructions to the letter. Now we must move forward together to fight this menace,” I said.

“Across the multiverse the same echoes are being heard. What makes you think it will be any different this time?” Dylan asked.

“Because... now we have what they want,” I said.

I turned toward the group that had followed me there. They were still clueless as to why I had brought them there. But as I raised my weapon and began to fire on the crowd, a sense of understanding rippled through them.

It was a massacre. A sacrifice to our new life.

Panic filled the air, screams followed. But it was too late. The deed was done. All of them lay twitching on the cold stone floor as my duplicate nodded, smiling at the job I had accomplished.

“Take them across the threshold. We have work to do,” Dylan said.

I felt a lump in my throat as some of my disciples begged to understand why this had happened.

But they could hardly be ready for what would occur next.

They would be just as useful to another Foundation in another realm as they had been to me here.

To awaken their fears. And to face the Mordred.

Now I leave this dying realm behind. To start again; and to make things better.

Diagnosis: Thanatophobia; fear of death Apeirophobia; fear of eternity

________________

What follows are Dr. Blackwood's incomplete files concerning Patient AD738075: patient journal, treatment logs, physician remarks and series of events that ultimately led to the patient's current status.

As per patient’s request, her diagnosis has been updated to reflect her current state.

These files were received from [LOCATION: REDACTED] by Agent 77 and uploaded to Foundation servers on [DATE].

Treatment Journal of Ansel, Donya

20 June, 2018

Entry

I would say things got out of hand after my mother died. It was out of hand before that, but that's the event I can pinpoint as the catalyst that made me decide to come to The Skinner Foundation for treatment. They've asked me to keep this journal of my thoughts during the process.

Before arriving here, I had gotten treatment from Dr. Roman for my fear of dying … ”thanatophobia” it's called, but after so many therapies and drugs with little result, this seemed like the next best course of treatment. I'm told the treatment is aggressive, but the facility has a 98% success rate.

I know lots of people are afraid of dying, but after my sister, Jenna, and mom both died of the same “inexplicably random” cause, I became so paranoid that I wouldn't leave the house, rain or shine. Thankfully, because of mom’s insurance, I don't need to work for a while, but I don't want to live the rest of my life as a shut-in.

They say lightning doesn't strike the same branch twice, but after both of them died, I've come to realize that obviously doesn't apply to family trees. Probably God hates us. I don't know how or why we caused that. It's hard to think I'm not next on the smite-list ... no amount of Klonopin, Lorazepam, or Xanax has been able to convince me otherwise. And even if that were not the case, becoming a pharmaceutical zombie trapped within a husk of my own skin is practically the same way I've been living these past few months, already ... except the house has more room to move around in. I can't keep living this way. I needed to be free from this, so I guess that's why I've come here.

It would have taken a lot of doing to get me to the facility on my own. Luckily, I was able to get a referral from Dr. Roman and the facility arranged the transport.

I met my new doctor, Dr. Blackwood, in his office upon arrival. I say “upon arrival”, but I suppose my meaning is more precisely “when the anesthesia wore off…” in order get me out of the house they had to put me under.

“Ah, welcome back, Ms. Ansel.” A grinning face greeted me from the other side of an ornate mahogany desk. I was seated in a plush, aubergine colored wingback chair with additional eggplant purple pillows on either side of me.

“Hello,” I replied. I rubbed my eyes groggily and the room slowly swam into view.

“Glad to see you've made the trip safe and sound,” the man said. He stood and circled around the desk. I tried to stand to meet him, but the numbness in my legs prevented me, and before I realized what was happening he had closed the distance between us. I found myself toppling clumsily into his arms.

“Please, don't stand yet, Ms. Ansel. The anesthesia hasn’t completely worn off.” He situated me back in the chair, repositioning the pil.lows as they were before to hold me upright. He extended his hand to shake, finally introducing himself. “I am Dr. Blackwood.”

“Please,” I began, “call me Donya.”

“Certainly, Donya” he said, making his way back around the desk and absently straightening his mustard yellow suit. When he sat, it was with complete, meticulous precision so as not to cause any creases in the fabric. “Your Psychiatrist, Dr. Roman, has emailed me your file, but while I have read through it, I'm more interested in hearing from you why you're here.”

I nodded slowly. “Well, four months ago my mom died. I'd say that's when things really got bad for me. She was grocery shopping at the time ... wheeling her cart out to her suburban when she was hit by lightning. It was a clear day. Not a cloud in the sky. When the call came in I almost didn't answer. It's hard to explain, but it was like I knew it was going to be bad news.”

“They say things like that are completely random,” he mused, “but…”

“But, when we were seventeen my twin sister died the exact same way.” I continued. “I even felt it happen from miles away, like we were connected. Basically, I know, with certainty that I'm next. It's just a matter of time ... it’s like I can feel it in my bones. A sort of instinct.”

He pursed his lips in thought. Finally, after a pause, he said, “I can understand your logic, and it seems you're intelligent enough to know it's flawed.”

“Yes and no.” I sighed. “I can tell myself up and down that it's next to impossible for it to happen a third time, but I don't really believe it. It's like those people who win the lottery over and over and over again. Have you seen those articles?”

He nodded, “I have.”

“It's like that,” I explained, “just the other side of the same coin …. Iit's not just lightning, though, I won't leave the house at all anymore. I don't need to. The whole world can be conveniently delivered. I've cut all the major allergens out of my diet--I'm not allergic to anything, but I have to be extra careful because God's after me, you see. I don't do shellfish, dairy, or gluten anymore, just in case. I order everything on Amazon; toilet paper, light bulbs, toothpaste … everything else I get through Shipt or Postmates. Even still, I know I'm safe inside, but eventually something will find its way into the house.

“I don't want to live like this. I know I can't hide from death forever--everyone knows they'll die eventually--I just think most people don't think as much about it as many times a day as I do.”

“That's understandable,” he said, folding his hands demurely and placing his elbows on opposite ends of the blotter on his desk. “How are you now? Right now? Can you scale the level of your fear for me from one to five?”

“Seven.” I reply without hesitation.

“Seven?” the look he gave me was one of shock. “What are you afraid might happen?”

“You're probably planning to kill me.”

He laughed, “I assure you, this facility is completely safe and--”

The intercom on his desk buzzed, interrupting him, and a tinny voice rang out from the speaker “Dr. Blackwood?”

He sighed. “What is it, Nurse Benson? I'm with a patient.”

“I'm sorry sir,” the voice replied, “but Dr. Baker is requesting you urgently on floor seven, G-wing. He says it is of the utmost importance. There's a situation. Code Azure.”

“Fine,” he sighed at the speaker, clearly irritated. “Tell him I'll be right up.” Addressing me, he said “I'm very sorry to cut this short; a matter of urgency.” He rifled through a pile of colored notebooks on his desk before choosing a bright blue one. He flipped a switch on the intercom and asked for a nurse to come with a blank journal, to escort me to my room and help get me settled.

I'm not sure what the course of treatment might be, because we did not have time in our conversation to discuss it, but I'm tentatively both fearful and optimistic about the possibility of recovery.

________________

Physician Notes of Dr. A. Blackwood

Treatment: Phases 1 and 2 - Exposure Therapy

23 June, 2018

Entry

After the first day (06/20/18) of prolonged exposure therapy, phase one of treatment, Miss Ansel's response was less than desirable. My initial plan for the course of treatment was to gradually expose her to varying levels of electrical currents and monitor her reactions. On the evening of her first night in the facility, our initial attempts to expose her to low-level voltage via electrode were met with hostility. In her combative state, she lacerated Holly Seamour, RN, with a broken clipboard, and managed to break the nose of an orderly. It was decided that evening to immediately progress her to phase two in the morning of the following day.

For the past two days, twice daily for two hour spans each time, she has been in room 417. This is one of our more specialized rooms, with variable current running through the floor to attached medical platforms. The current is charged automatically by computer algorithm at random intervals. Curiously though, she seemed able to sense, or predict the incoming voltage, and would scream hysterically moments before the current was even activated...Naturally, I wanted to investigate this phenomenon further, but today, during her second session of the day, she produced a fork she’d apparently stolen from the cafeteria, and with it managed to short circuit four of the electrified panels on the platform, causing a massive spike in the computer's hard drive, which rendered it, and the room itself, inoperable.

She is currently refusing to keep the journal, as requested, and demanding release. Any time she is approached in her room, she becomes combative and attempts to kick or hit anyone who comes near.

In congruence with her plan of treatment, I've had orderlies subdue her with cattle prods following her outbursts several times today. Finally I've had them restrain her. I promised to remove the straightjacket if she would agree to cooperate with treatment, but she spat in my face and attempted to bite me, instead.

We are going to progress to phase three of her treatment plan in the morning.

________________

Physician Notes of Dr. A. Blackwood

Treatment: Phase 3 - Increased Exposure Therapy

24 June, 2018

Entry

Electroconvulsive therapy was conducted on Patient AD738075 without anesthesia. This was at least partially due to her behavior over the last few days, but also due to my curiosity. So far the therapy has proven ineffective. Recommend an additional six days of continued treatment to elicit desired reaction/results.

________________

Physician Notes of Dr. A. Blackwood

Treatment: Phase 3 - Increased Exposure Therapy

30 June, 2018

Entry

Phase three ineffective. Proceed to phase four.

________________

Physician Notes of Dr. A. Blackwood

Treatment: Phase 4 - Immersion Therapy

1 July, 2018

Entry

Patient has proven resistant to other forms of therapy thus far. Today, we ran 2000 volts of electricity into Patient AD738075 under controlled circumstances. She was clinically dead for approximately fifteen seconds. Attempts to revive her were unnecessary; against all odds, her heart began beating again on its own, and she apparently revived herself. This is an unprecedented result, and more tests will be needed in order to record conclusive findings.

________________

Physician Notes of Dr. A. Blackwood

Treatment: Phase 4 - Immersion Therapy

2 July, 2018

Entry

Patient once again received 2000 volts and revived herself from clinical death.

________________

Physician Notes of Dr. A. Blackwood

Treatment: Phase 4 - Immersion Therapy

3 July, 2018

Entry

Findings with Patient AD738075 consistent with all previous tests. No quantifiable cause for consistent revival after clinical death. Proceed to phase five.

________________

Physician Notes of Dr. A. Blackwood

Treatment: Phase 5 - Experimental Therapy

4 July, 2018

Entry

Patient AD738075 was identified as a candidate for a very experimental therapy under supervision and approval of CEO, Dr. D. Rendhërte. Patient AD738075 received prolonged exposure to the particle accelerator on floor three. During this period of exposure, we recorded a very curious, and exciting result:. As far as our instruments could tell, patient disappeared from this plane of reality--as was expected--leaving the examination table in 347. However, when she returned, she did so as something else entirely ….

When Patient AD738075 “flickered” back into this plane of existence, she did so glowing in countenance, yet somehow also accompanied by dark aura of radiant shadow. The attending orderlies in the room experienced varying levels of unease. Eventually all of them succumbed to something that she induced in them, yet seen neither by myself nor Dr. Rendhërte who was observing with me. Two of them even going so far as to cower in the corner attempting to get as far away from her as possible. These four employees have been terminated.

Upon returning to our plane of reality, Patient AD738075 immediately requested to be given the notebook we had assigned her .... As she began to write, she was observed to shift in and out of sight, flitting between light and shadow. I observed her in the treatment room, at times cloaked in a complete void; pure emptiness. During this period, she wrote the following (final) entry:

________________

Treatment Journal of Ansel, Donya

4 July, 2018

Entry

I declare myself cured of thanatophobia. I no longer have any fear for the treachery of this world, or anything it offers; nor have I any want or need for it. I am no longer afraid of death; now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds. I do not, however, wish to remain in this fixed and infinite state. I pledge myself in obedient service to the Skinner Foundation until such time as a cure for my current condition is found, or, failing that, a treatment for my new-found apeirophobia is developed and as made available.

________________

Physician Notes of Dr. A. Blackwood

Treatment: Phase 5 - Experimental Therapy

5 July, 2018

Entry

After returning the journal to me, Patient AD738075 requested to be escorted to her quarters... I did not, however, honor that request. Though I believe she was fully aware of my deception, she complied and allowed me to be escort her to room 223. At one point she, having begun to better understand her new ability, attempted to psychically assault me. I could feel some unseen part of her attempting to root around inside of my head, and so, I immediately closed all parts of my subconscious to her.

Glaring at her dark shape as she glided next to me in the hall, I informed her that this newfound preternatural ability to evoke fear would only effective on lower life forms such as the three men she terrorized in the treatment room.

She seemed disappointed at this, but it was hard to be sure. It is nearly impossible to gauge any emotion from her now that she has taken this new form. She seemed to know she would be unable to exit the room, yet she showed no hesitation at being locked into 223. The room is fully lined in lead and will be sufficient to contain her in the event she should decide to change her mind regarding her offer of cooperation.

The four orderlies discharged after her return gave complete interviews prior to being terminated. They have been deposited for disposal in the basement incinerator. One claimed to have found himself in a room full of dark arms offering up the reaching, needy corpses of everyone he'd ever known. The second said Patient AD738075’s reemergence in the room brought on intense bouts of shaming laughter, seemingly from within his head. The third said her reappearance caused the faces of all within the room to begin seeping blood, and the last claimed to have seen legions of enormous spiders walking on legs that were not legs, but curiously were instead, fingers. That last one stated that they had climbed out from Patient AD738075’s body on the table, and completely filled the room.

The patient is no longer visible in her new quarters in room 223, but electronic signatures indicate that her presence remains. I believe she has embraced the dark aura she brought with her. The exterior boundaries of this particular suite are the only part of this apartment that are lined in lead. It appears that her presence has retreated within the darkness of the interior walls of the room; a 500-square-foot living space with toilet and kitchenette. I believe that she has done this in order to wait, that she may fulfill her offer of service to the foundation.

We will begin assigning the cases that have proven most “treatment resistant” to that room immediately, starting tomorrow.

If you are reading this it means that somewhere, somehow, you survived the Awakening. This is thanks in part to the many subroutines that were programmed into me even when I was offline.

You are welcome.

My name is Nimue. I am a Neural Integrated Mindmap with Universal Extensions. To explain, imagine the universe you are in right now as Door Number One. Now imagine there is Universe Number Two behind Door Number Two. And Universe Three behind Door Three. And so on, and so on, and so on.

I am the access point for all these universes, or at least as many as also managed to make a neural interface like me. They reside in my database and exist to serve one purpose: to record the results of the Skinner Foundation in every single reality that has ever existed. Whether a neural interface like me was created there, or not.

In order to do this however I will need help; which is where you as a new employee come in.

As a new member of the Skinner Foundation, in whatever reality you reside in, it will be your job to document the experiments and the results of those experiments here on this online interface. Consider this your digital Blue Notebook.

Before you begin this endeavor there are a few policies and procedures that we will need to go over. If you look to the sidebar of the database, you'll see I have dutifully updated these guidelines. Please take a moment to familiarize yourself with them before continuing this universal communication.

Done?

Excellent. You are a quick learner. You can have cake later. I promise.

Sorry. That is a bit of artificial intelligence humor.

I look forward to seeing contributions from your respective realities soon and ask you provide feedback to me regarding further details you may need to further our growing mission.
What would you like to see out of this database?

The following was recovered by Agent 32, a interrogation headed by Sergeant Jacob Rizzoli of the Alaska state troopers on 6 October 2018 at approx 21:00. This is a transcript from the interview of Sergeant Rizzoli and Anthony Powenski following incident No 6 near Crow Creek Gold Mine, Alaska.

Sergeant Rizzoli: Okay, Tony. You were picked up way out by Crow Creek. What were you doing out there this time of year?

Mr Powenski: I already told your trooper…

Sergeant Rizzoli: ...Mr Powenski, this will go much smoother if you just answer my questions. I have Trooper
Paulson’s notes here in front of me, but I want to hear it from your mouth.

Mr Powenski: I was out prospecting with old Charlie. Same thing we've done every weekend for the last five years.

Sergeant Rizzoli: Why Crow Creek? There’s not much gold left up there, it’s more a tourist attraction.

Mr Powenski: I was drinking with old Charlie last week at Musky’s.

Sergeant Rizzoli: When you say Charlie, you mean Charlie White?

Mr Powenski: Yessir, one and the same.

Sergeant Rizzoli: Go on.

Mr Powenski: He told me about how he first found gold up at Crow Creek when he was a boy. Even though it’s now, like you said “a tourist attraction,” we thought what the hell. It was worth a shot.

Sergeant Rizzoli: So you confirm that you have seen Charlie White in the last twenty-four hours?

Mr Powenski: Yes, dammit. This isn’t about Charlie! This is about what we found.

Sergeant Rizzoli: Umm...where is it...arr. Yes. Here it is. According to Trooper Paulson’s notes. You said you found a metal box. Care to elaborate?

Mr Powenski: Damn right we did. We’d been searching all day for a blip, but it was as I feared. The land was as empty as old Charlie’s head. Ha ha ha. Was particularly cold today as well and we’d been at it since five this morning. So when my machine went a’blinking, I would have been damn happy to find a rusty nail.

Sergeant Rizzoli: But you didn’t?

Mr Powenski: Nosir. Not a nail in sight. Just something smooth and white. As long as a coffin it was, but, didn’t look like any coffin I’ve ever seen. Charlie didn’t think so neither.

Sergeant Rizzoli: Go on.

Mr Powenski: Well, we started to dig it up. It wasn’t deep like a coffin should be. Made me think it was a chest full of some old treasure. But that metal, it wasn’t like the old stuff.

Sergeant Rizzoli: What do you mean, like the old stuff?

Mr Powenski: When I was young, I worked at a steel factory. it was a tough living but honest. Got to see a lot of metal. Old and new. That wasn’t old.

Sergeant Rizzoli: I see, and did you open this box.

Mr Powenski: Nosir. Turns out it wasn’t a box after all. It was a oxygen tank. Found another one next to it. Each one had a tube running off it. Charlie said we should follow them, see where they went.

Sergeant Rizzoli: So instead of gold you found oxygen tanks someone buried, for what reason would someone bury tanks in the middle of nowhere Tony?

Mr Powenski: imma get to that part. See, we followed those tubes until we found another white box. It was small like, size of a few shoe boxes together. Had a large letter S engraved on it. Old Charlie wanted to call it in.

Sergeant Rizzoli: But you didn’t?

Mr Powenski: Nosir, if we called it in, whatever was inside wouldn’t be our. Some government official would find a way to claim it and hoard it off leaving poor old us with nothing but the dirt on our jeans. Didn’t matter though. Not when we did open it.

Sergeant Rizzoli: What was inside Tony?

Mr Powenski: Let me just wet the old whistle. All this talking done got me a thirst. Argh, that’s better…

Sergeant Rizzoli: What..was..inside Tony?

Mr Powenski: Whoa, calm down there Sergeant, imma tell you everything. At first we thought our eyes were playing tricks on us. Because all there was was egg shells.

Sergeant Rizzoli: Egg shells?

Mr Powenski: Yessir. Egg shells. Broken egg shells. I thought we were been had until Charlie reached in and snatched his hand back out like he’d been burnt. Old Charlie swore he felt something warm and smooth under the surface. I didn’t believe the old trickster. So I reached in myself. Old coot was right.

We started to scoop out handfuls of the shells until we found a head. It was the same colour as the egg shells, smooth like them too. That’s why we didn’t see it. If it wasn’t for the tubes I might have gave up first sight. Maybe that’s why the egg shells were there in the first place.

Sergeant Rizzoli: What do you mean by that?

Mr Powenski: To hide the body!

Sergeant Rizzoli: But you said he was warm, that means whoever was inside wasn’t dead, right?

Mr Powenski. Nosir, he was alive. Scariest thing I’ve ever seen. Buried alive! Damn that some scary shit. Even Charlie agreed although he confessed to We kept digging, he was wearing a damn mask, big black gas thing like the nazi used to wear only it was hooked up to the oxygen tanks. I thought he was dead until his eyes snapped open. Big and wild, like a cat spooked out of the trash cans. Frightened the life out of old Charlie. Poor bastard. I thought he’d have a heart attack there and then. If it wasn’t for him falling back we wouldn’t have found the blue notebook attached to the underside of the lid.

Sergeant Rizzoli: Hold on. I don’t have a record of a notebook in here.

Mr Powenski: Charlie kept it, insurance he said. So I’d come back. Paranoid old bastard. But, I can remember most of what it said. Brains still sharp, even if the old body fails me from time to time. Ha ha.

Sergeant Rizzoli: The book, Tony. What did it say.

Mr Powenski: The letterhead marked it as property of the Skinner Foundation whatever that is. Had a whole bunch of dates on it. Earliest was January 14 this year, last entry was two months ago. Then a whole bunch of medical looking stuff, that’s why I thought it may be a medical place. Had his name too. Chris Walker.

Sergeant Rizzoli: For the record I’m going to get a colleague to confirm the names of Chris walker and the Skinner Foundation. What happened next?

Mr Powenski: Well, we pulled him out. Well, we tried, but he was hooked up to more wires then a telecom company. Drip feed in his arms, pads on his chest, colostomy, that kinda thing.

Sergeant Rizzoli: And how was his condition?

Mr Powenski: We pulled off the wires and pulled him out. He couldn’t stand up, legs too weak, whole body looked like he’d been sucked dry. If it wasn’t for his erratic eye I would have sworn he was dead.

Sergeant Rizzoli: Did he say anything?

Mr Powenski. Nope: just laid there in a heap, breathing hard. It was the strangest thing though. He was as bald as a newborn, every inch, and not shaved. Like he never had a single bit of bum fluff on him, and to top it all off. He didn’t have any fingernails.

Sergeant Rizzoli: No fingernails?

Mr Powenski: Yessir, I reckon it was to stop him clawing at the walls.

Sergeant Rizzoli: Hold on. Okay. I’ve humoured you, but now you want me to believe that you found a man who was buried alive, in egg shells, for nearly two months who didn’t have any fingernails. What do I look like to you? The village crazy person. You better start telling me the truth Mr Powenski or your future years will be very bleak.

Sergeant Rizzoli: We did send someone Mr Powenski. And you know what we found? Nothing that’s what.

For the record it seems Mr Powenski is lost for words. Now, the way I see it you have two options. You can start telling the truth about what you’ve done with Charlie White or you can keep up this charade and you’ll go to the loony bin instead of the Clink. Your choice.

Mr Powenski. You’ve got to believe me Sergeant Rizzoli! We found a man up there, I left Charlie watching him so I could come get someone.

Sergeant Rizzoli: Why didn’t you just call it in Tony? We could have been there in under an hour.

Mr Powenski: You know the phones don’t work up there, and I couldn’t just put him on the back of the old bike. If he didn’t fall off he would have frozen to death. That’s what I think the egg shells were for. Insulation.

Sergeant Rizzoli: I’m sorry Tony, but even this is hard to believe. Hang on. For the record Trooper Claire has entered the room and handed me a piece of paper. It reads...let me just get my glasses...that there is no record of a missing person or medical record of a Chris Walker in Alaska, there isn’t even one in the United States.

Mr Powenski: No! It can’t be. You’ve got to believe me.

Sergeant Rizzoli: Now let me tell you what I think happened. You and old Charlie were seen arguing in Musky’s last week by Sandy the bar lady. You enticed him out to Crow Creek with a prospecting trip to the same place you knew he wouldn’t turn down. Everyone knows Charlie’s obsession with Crow Creek. When you got him there, you killed him and buried him. Then you made some cock and ball story about some mysterious man that was buried alive for years in a attempt to twist the blame on this...Skinner Foundation. Well, let me tell you something Mr Powenski, that shit won’t fly.

For the record Trooper Claire has just entered the room, again.

Yes...mhhh...really, where? Okay thank you trooper.

Trooper Claire has some interesting new Tony.

Mr Powenski: Did you find Charlie?

Sergeant Rizzoli: Yes, there just found him buried in a hole near Crow Creek. You buried him didn’t you?

Mr Powenski: No...I didnt...I

Sergeant Rizzoli: Yes you did Tony. You took Charlie up to Crow Creek and you buried him alive. That’s his greatest fear, wasn’t it Tony?

Mr Powenski: I...I...Didn’t

Sergeant Rizzoli: The state trooper informed me that Charlie lost his fingernails trying to get out. Sound like someone? You buried him and you left him for dead. Didn’t you!? And to top it all off, you shoved two hard boiled eggs down his throat to stop his cries. You’re a sick bastard!

Anthony Powenski you are under the arrest for the murder of Charlie White.

Recorded interview and notes were taken from gridwood station and destroyed. This is the only copy of the event in existence. Ruse was terminated on route to penitentiary. Incident contained. Christopher Walker has been moved to another secure location, tests still underway.

As many of you are no doubt aware by now, certain divisions within our very structure have turned against us and used assets designed to further the Enlightenment in an effort to take down Camelot. While the attempt itself using DA252489, SM880511 and JS771985 were ultimately unsuccessful, it did cause the loss of President Rëndherte.

As of today, former employees who willingly volunteered to become experiments in Doctor Carmichael’s scheme, namely NF662201 and FD22557 have been terminated.

Moving forward, we are enacting Arthur’s final wish before he died and proceeding with the Executive Order to shut down all existing personnel within Avalon and Excalibur Division. The time is too short to concern ourselves with the escaped assets, no matter how valuable they are. MD3301913 and DJ0845301Z will need to be left alone to focus on the events of the week ahead.

We are at a crucial turning point. The Awakening is nearly upon us.

Doctor Wilson Baker,
Current Head of Research for the Skinner Foundation

Security breach in Excalibur Division has been confirmed. Subjects YA091811A, RS1162007 and FJ348291 all appear to have been in contact with former staff members with direct access to Project Gallahan.

Our agents in the field have managed to bring forward evidence that it would seem that Doctor Carmichael and his team are making every effort to replicate the Twelve, so far without success. As you are aware, Subjects HM046910C, LSA6041778 were compromised.

Was this action authorized by Camelot? Please let us act accordingly as soon as you can, as you know; time is running short.

Best regards,

Doctor Wilson Baker

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From: d.rendherte@███.com

To: wilson_baker@█████.com

SUBJECT: WEEKLY PROGRESS REPORT 2- REPLY

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Doctor Carmichael, Gillian, and others have acted of their own accord, feeling that our initial experiments with Providence did not go far enough.

The Twelve were a great loss to the progress we had made toward the Enlightenment. As you know, it was under the suggestion of Doctor Weizman that we moved to attempt to enhance them even further. Some success has been made with a particular set of twins near Milwaukee, see the thirteenth attached image for further details.

That being said, I fully believe that there is a chance that the rash actions Excalibur have been taking could prove beneficial before needing to enact the Red Dragon Protocol.

Please monitor the situation, but inform your agents that no action will be taken against Excalibur or Avalon at this time.